Classic Poem

(On a dance-composition of Angna Enters)

Lady of Heaven,
You who sit alone,
The sky is your canopy
The earth is your throne.

To suffer our sorrow
You bent from above,
And gave in pity
The Rose of your love.

He is the Rose
Worn at your breast,
Broken to bring the world
Comfort and rest.

He is the Rose
Torn from your side,
By His own thorns
To be crucified.

With the fair linen
Lave His face,
Who was born in beauty,
Who was born in grace.

Lift Him on high
For all to see,
Clothed in His mantle
Of nativity.